Fear
by Michaela Will
Summary: Yui fears everything in her life but can't express it to anyone. Certainly not the one person who deserves one: Suboshi. Follows YuiSuboshi scene from Ep 35.


_Fear_

by Michaela Wills

My breath was caught in the back of my throat. I could hear the heavy ceramic jar clattering against the hard-packed ground. Points of contact shocked me and I jumped slightly at the pressure at the small of my back. My eyes widened automatically and I wondered, detachedly, why they didn't slam shut instead. His mouth was pressed to mine. I could sense urgency in his touch, the intensity of emotion and wisps of anger that were leaving him. Again that detached part informed me how soft his lips were. Then again how gentle they would be without that urgency.

Urgency. Gods! The reminder struck me hard and I pulled. Away! Away! Must get away. My voice rung out and then, then my eyes slammed shut. I didn't see blackness, though. I never thought I'd see the inside of my eyelids again, but sometimes I do. When the thoughts of them are at bay. At that time, all I saw was them. The streets of Kutou. I could hear them again and the ripping of my clothes, my hoarse voice crying out. Pain suddenly throbbed in my chest. No, no, no! Yamete! Yamete!

I barely felt his arm, still entwined around my waist or his hand at my wrist. I barely heard his voice, the soft tone, still urgent, driving me back. And when it ended, all I could think was Tomo! thank the Gods Tomo! I spoke with Tomo, trying desperately to distract myself from him. And it worked, it worked at the time.

Now, however, is a different story. I sit up and look over to the bedroll beside my own. Suboshi sleeps rather soundly, but I've woke him before like this. All it really takes is the sound of something unnatural and he's awake again. Lucky for me, he's not so aware that he catches the soft tones of fabric moving as I slowly extract myself from my roll and move outside the tent.

I look around the region of lower Hokkan we're in. There's trees around and I don't feel like being exposed. I need to think. I need safety to think. Finding a tree with some well-distanced branches, I indulge in something I haven't done in ages: I climb up the tree. It take awhile to find a branch to sit on that will support my weight. A few moments longer to arrange my legs into a sitting position that's comfortable. In the end, my back is against the trunk of the tree, on leg crooked to rest on the branch I sit on, the other dangling a little to rest on a lower branch.

Now to think.

Suboshi kissed me. I replay the moment in my mind. The touch. I run a finger across my lower lip. He wasn't really so rough, perhaps a little. A shiver runs down my spine and suddenly, the mental images of Kutou return. No! No!

I cover my eyes, breathing deeply. I can control that, I have to stop this. I can't associate the touch of every man in my life with them. It'll ruin me!

It already has. Gods, Nakago couldn't even touch me for the first month. The first time Tamahome touched me I had to repress the memory. Bile had almost risen to my throat when Kutou's Emperor laid a hand on me. And when Suboshi first touched . . . Suboshi . . .

I touched Suboshi first. I touched him. Why was I able to touch him without fear? He was so vulnerable at that moment, curled on the floor like that, his frame shaking. I remember feeling horrible for him. He was nothing more than a shell, broken, shattered and hurt. He feels everything so deeply. So much like Miaka. The poor boy; He looked, at that time, like he'd lost the only thing in the world that mattered. I think he had. Maybe that's why I could touch Suboshi when I could touch no one else. He was hurting inside and was able to do the one thing I couldn't. He could show it.

I knew he was hurt. He wouldn't hurt me. He hasn't and I know he won't no matter how angry he is. He was angry before he kissed me. I begin to dissect the moment, trying to disassociate my memories of Kutou from Suboshi. When I try it's not really too hard. Just substitute urgency for something a little less frightening. Passion maybe? It doesn't fit quite right, but good enough to keep my mind from going into hyperdrive.

Separating my thoughts makes it easier to think about. Suboshi kissed me. I was surprised. I-I knew he cared about me, but I thought it was in a more platonic way. That kiss was definitely not platonic, not with that kind of urg-passion! That kind of passion.

It was impassioned and intense, but thinking back, there was a careful gentleness to it. He was trying to speak to me with that kiss, express something he can't put words to. His voice was soft and pressing but his grip didn't tighten when I struggled. He stayed. His touch was . . . supportive. He didn't really try to say anything, he way just saying my name, like he was trying to gain my attention. I've taken a course on psychology and one of the things that we learned was how to listen. Not to the words, but the tones of someone's voice. I know, there was truth and care in Suboshi's.

Gods I feel horrible. The things I put him through. I guess he knew I wasn't afraid of him.

I'm just afraid.

I jump at shadows these days. I hate it! It doesn't take much to turn me into a tightly wound coil, ready to spring at a moment's notice. Touches, tones, inflections, I suppose I've never trusted easily. I trust even less now. I don't really trust my own senshi. Not even Nakago. I listen to him, but I don't really trust his word. It's so flat, how can you trust someone without any feeling in his voice?

If I didn't know how Suboshi felt about me before, I sure do now. He feels very strongly about me. It-it's rather nice knowing someone really cares. I never hear those tones in Nakago's voice, but Nakago just doesn't know how to show how he feels. Tamahome never has thought of me as anything more than Miaka's buddy. That's obvious. Yet Suboshi really does care. But what do I feel for him?

I care about him. I feel for him. Suboshi has probably been through as much pain as I am. I-I enjoyed his kiss, his touch, despite the surprise. It's the fear that's the problem now. Why am I so afraid? I have a reason, I know, but what if I want Suboshi to touch me again? Can I honestly stay in his arms without getting frightened again? I don't know if I can. I'm too afraid of everything. I don't want to hurt him. He's had enough pain in his life without me hurting him and betraying him. And I will, I'll leave. I have to and that will pain him. I don't want him to hate me. That I know too. I don't want Suboshi to hate the memory of me and feel I betrayed him on purpose. He's really the only one right now. I'm tired of causing others pain.

I don't want to be hurt again. I'm tired of being tormented by fate and destiny. But I'm tired of being afraid. I need to be held and cherished. I yearn for what Miaka has: The God-given ability to trust faithfully and not to fear what I need. But I'm terrified; I'm so frightened of everyone around me. I despise it in me.

And throughout all this I wish I wasn't alone. I'm a walking case of paradoxes. I hurt others with every move I make but I'm tired of causing pain. I jump at everything and can't really trust anyone but it's all I want. I wish for love but I'm petrified to grasp at it. I'm terrified of each person near me but I yearn to have someone to hold on to.

It's simply and utterly sickening.

I swallow, trying to force the lump from my throat but it won't leave. Nor will the pressure on my chest. A sob escapes me but I stifle it as much as I can. I won't cry, I can't cry. The pressure builds in my chest, crafting an intricate knot, ever tightening in my stomach. Gods, not again. No more tears. I have none left to cry. I have nothing to cry over. I've spent every tear already.

My body disagrees, as does my mind, replaying everything that I've pondered in this tree. I clench my fists and press my eyes tightly closed until I can see muted colors moving in the depths of my eyelids. I feel the tears crawling down my cheeks. I sob. I hate this, every time it's the same. I can't stop it. I crave to so badly. I'm so worn out it makes me sick. My stomach tightens another knot and I cry out softly, covering my face.

The tears, my aching, mourning heart overwhelms me. Tears course over my skin. I try to glare hatefully at each betraying drop but there's too many. It's just too strenuous to keep glaring.

Finally, the tears slow and finally stop.

I let out a shaky breath. It's always the same: This circular ring of thought. I want to be loved but I don't want to be hurt. I guess, I guess that's where I'm really different than Miaka: She's not afraid to be hurt and is able to recover and trust again. I can't, not like her.

I take another shaky, gasping breath. I watch the condensation from my mouth curl in tendrils and float away. I sigh, slowing my breathing and cradling my cheek. Raising both hands, I feel down the trails left by my tears, wiping them away. Never could cry when people watched me. I hate that; it makes me feel silly and childish. Two things I hate being thought of as.

My hands glisten from the salt-water tears. I touch the corners of my eyes with my sleeve. I slowly climb down from the tree. One branch almost cracks apart under my foot, leaving me grasping tightly to the trunk. Needless to say, every following step is taken with careful precision. I slide as quietly as I can back inside the tent. I glance at Suboshi.

He looks rather serene in his sleep. I-I wish I could feel the same way about him, express it the same way, I mean. But, I suppose, he's ready to love. He's really ready for it. Emotionally and physically; I just can't handle much of any emotion these days. Nights like these where I sit in a cloud of melancholy wipe every ounce of energy from me. Despite that I wish I could at least explain it all to Suboshi. I'm too afraid, however, to attempt anything of the sort. I'd never be able to say it right. Not without hurting him worse than I have. How can he be so open about the way he feels and not be scared? I don't understand it. Somehow, he's not afraid to feel. I sigh lightly. I wish I were like that: Like Suboshi and Miaka.

I crawl back into my bedroll and turn on my side. The dark tent cover looks back at me. Try to sleep. You need to sleep. In this way, perhaps crying is good, because I'm exhausted now. My eyes drift shut. I try to even out my breathing; it's still a touch shaky from before. I'll sleep faster if I breath deeply too.

I feel my bedroll shift as it's suddenly pulled across the ground and then stops. My eyes are wide open now, my heart pounding in my chest. He's awake, Gods, I woke Suboshi, he's awake. I don't move; I'm frozen in place and fear crawls over me. Oh Gods, what now?

The bedroll is folded back and I feel one hand slide under me and around my waist. He pulls me against him, the thick layers of the two bedrolls still between us. The other hand brushes back my hair, teasing it and smoothing it over and over again. I don't move. I stay completely still, praying he'll let go. My body is tense, completely locked up. I feel irrational fear welling up inside me, loathing every moment of this. Why can't I enjoy this? This, this is what I want! Stop being so afraid! What's wrong with me? I try to will my muscles to relax, but they don't heed my order like my tears before. I hear my own horse voice choke out a half sob.

"Shhh, Yui-sama." Suboshi's soft voice reaches in my ear, "It's okay to cry. Cry as much as you need to. I'll stay here, with you, I promise."

His touch is firm, but gentle, much like before. It's unyielding, but not constraining when I don't fight him. I only felt restrained because I was trying so hard to escape. But I was trying to escape myself. Slowly I relax, slightly, little by little. I'm too tired to fight him, right now it's easier to give in. He's not going to hurt me he's supporting me.

What he said finally registers. Cry as much as you need to. It's almost exactly what I told him when I held him. I-I-I guess . . . If I did this for him, it's okay if he does this for me. Trust him, trust him, trust him.

I slowly build up the courage to turn over. I know my eyes are glossy with tears. I look at his shadowed face and see his eyes. Caring blue-gray eyes and a slight smile. His arm tightens to fit around my back and this time I list into him, settling my head on his chest. He turns, leaning back a little, so that I can rest my head against him easier, his other arm draping over my shoulder and running through my hair. Closing my eyes, I don't cry, but I allow myself to be overcome in sadness again, clinging to Suboshi like a lifeline.

He whispers nonsense words to soothe me every so often and continues to stroke my hair until I'm completely spent. This is how I feel asleep, a deep, deathly, unhaunted sleep for the first time in months. Somehow, I managed not to fear that night.


End file.
